Presentable
by hrhowling
Summary: Things are different here. James was not present that Halloween, and now lives with a wall of guilt that is near impossible to shake off. Harry is raised without the hardships forced upon him by the Dursleys, and instead has a healthy family life and a friend who more closely resembles a sister. Hogwarts has new trials, and more secrets, and the story is just a little bit stranger
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah, yeah, I need to stop writing new stories and finish the ones I've got out already, but I promised my friend I'd post this first chapter this weekend.**

 **Since my other Harry Potter story; _'The Dragon and the Wolf'_ ; went stale a while ago, I thought I'd do something similar, but different at the same time. It's an AU retelling, and some of the changes are as follows:**

 **\- James Potter is not dead. He was at a meeting with Dumbledore when Voldemort attacked his home in Godrick's Hollow.  
\- After the death of Lily; Remus and Sirius moved in with James and Harry in order to help them cope with the loss.  
\- The Blacks and the Malfoys are both werewolf families, so fun times are imminent. This'll be fun, especially when I get into the details of the werewolf culture.  
** **\- The timeline has been shifted forward several years, meaning Harry's first year of Hogwarts takes place in 2007. My reason for this is because I want to have some fun with wizards and more modern technology. e.g., several muggleborn students have come up with a charm to charge their phones and games consoles. Also; three words: Arthur Weasley, Internet. Take a guess to what I have planned.  
\- Werewolves are split into two subcultures: the standard, canon werewolf, and the culture I came up with myself. The canon transforms every full moon and has to keep taking the Wolfsbane Potion in order to retain their humanity. _My_ lycanthropes depend upon another concoction that gifts them with near-constant control over their shapeshifting and renders most bites incapable of infecting humans, but there are multiple repercussions to level it out, which is why not all werewolves choose this option.  
\- I've wanted to write something with the Omegaverse for a while (look it up, it's on Fanlore), and this is it. I'm _not_ going into smut. Talking about Omega heats, and basic sex ed for werewolves, yeah, I'll do that, but writing actual sex scenes is territory that I dare not tread. I'm not a porn writer. Anyways, my second subculture of werewolves is split into this hierarchy. It'll be elaborated on later.**

 **So... I don't have much else to say without giving away too much, so... enjoy, I guess...**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Heartbreak**

James Potter was one of few who knew what heartbreak really felt like. It hit him harder than any bludger could have ever done, shattering every bone in his chest before sinking its searing fangs into him; the venom leaking into his bloodstream. The poison was a creeping numbness that stilled the barely functioning pieces of his heart before slowly infecting the rest of him, washing out the colour of his eyes into a dull, lifeless grey, turning his hair into a limp, tarnished tangle and sapping the strength from his gradually thinning body. There was no spring left in his step, his once jaunty laughter was non-existent and he barely had the willpower to haul himself out of bed and face another endless day. Life had become a chore to him; one he only completed out of necessity.

It… could've been so easy to just… stop… End it… But he had to carry on for Harry. Harry was the only reason he still pushed forward, still had a reason to keep going, still had the willpower to get up off of whatever he'd fallen asleep on (he'd fallen asleep on the stairs more than once).

Regardless, he was still wasting away. Despite his lethargy and fatigue, sleep had struggled to reach him since the funeral. That had been when he'd finally succumbed to the reality of what happened two weeks prior. More often than not, he forgot to feed himself properly; only ever snacking every once in a while; and the degradation of his health showed visibly. His eyes; constantly bloodshot from his violent bursts of tearful despair; had sunk into heavy, sickly puce bags, cheekbones dug into his sallow skin and his clothes weren't as filled out as they should have been.

Showers occurred more frequently and lasted longer than they used to; James finding comfort in the mind-numbing drone of water pounding against him and grounding himself in the tender pain that was a result of turning the temperature up a little more than necessary. Anyone who came across him would find his hair damp and face flushed from the heat he'd almost drowned himself in shortly before leaving the house with Harry to get some air.

Unfortunately, leaving the house meant running into other people. _A lot_ of other people. People who all seemed to have rehearsed the same infuriating, meaningless words reserved just for especially for him.

'I'm so sorry for your loss.'

Stop it. Stop saying that. He hated it. He hated the disgusting sincerity and the pity in their eyes whenever they looked at him and Harry. Hated being reminded that Lily was _gone_ , and there was _no_ bringing her back. He'd never see her again, because he hadn't been able to protect her, and it was his fault she was dead because he _wasn't there_! Instead he was at a stupid meeting with Dumbledore whilst that _monster_ had just waltzed in and… and…

The floodgates opened again, sending hot tears cascading down his hollow cheeks. Burying his face in his hands, he did nothing to hold back the heaving sobs that racked his chest. Guilt, despair and hopelessness overwhelmed him; having been bottled up long enough; the only outlet being this outburst of crushing emotions.

"Da?"

Looking up through misty glasses, James's eyes met with Harry's, who was looking up at him with those agonisingly familiar eyes. Toys discarded, the eighteen-month-old's face bore no surprise, but a familiar worry that really shouldn't have been there. Not at this age.

"I'm fine, sport," James croaked, wiping away tears and trying to force a smile onto his face. "Just… just…" He had nothing.

A knock at the door alerted him to visitors. He wondered who it was now. Daily Prophet come to twist his words into some sob story that they could publish? Someone who'd read said story and wished to offer help? In other words; people he didn't want to deal with.

It wasn't the Prophet.

Or an offer of help.

It was Remus and Sirius. They were both looking at him with immense worry, and the latter of the two Marauders was shifting about on his feet, as if wanting to step forward, but trying to stay put at the same time.

Eventually, Remus broke the tense, awkward silence. "James?"

"H-hey…" James murmured quietly. "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"We sent you a letter a few days ago, remember?"

"Oh. Sorry, I… I've not been… in the best of sorts recently."

Both men shared a concerned glance with each other before looking back at him. "Can we come in?" Sirius enquired. James nodded and stepped aside to allow them in. As they brushed past, he caught the musky odour of soil and mountain flowers, and it was almost like someone had cast a relaxation charm on him, because almost every muscle in his body seemed to go lax and his mind fogged over for a moment..

"Pafu!" Harry shouted at the sight of his godfather, and James managed to pull a smile onto his face at the sound.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius chuckled, kneeling down next to the boy and picking up a toy to play with him. Meanwhile, Remus turned to rest his gaze on James.

"You look awful," he stated bluntly, concern in glimmering in his eyes.

"Mind telling me something I don't know?" James muttered, bitter regret clear in his tone as he wiped away the damp from his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it? I've learned that the best thing to do in these situations is to get it off your chest."

Reluctance flared in James's eyes, but he nodded and made his way into the kitchen anyway. Scenting the room, Remus realised that there was very little food for James save for the baby food reserved solely for Harry.

"What've you been eating?" he asked worriedly.

"Just… just snacks, really," James murmured. "I've not had much of an appetite since… since Lily…"

He faltered and choked, more tears stinging at his eyes. His throat clenched and the next thing he knew, he was choking on tears and sobbing again. It was horrible, it _wasn't fair_. Lily was gone, and there was nothing he could do. It was his fault, he hadn't been there, and things were just spiralling out of control-.

He didn't realise he'd been uncontrollably babbling all of this, the stream of despair pouring unheeded from his lips as his poorly bottled up emotions exploded outwards.

"James… James, it's not your fault," Remus murmured softly, placing a gentle hand on James's shoulder and guiding him out of the room. Leading him upstairs, he tucked the distraught man into his bed and waited for him to finish crying himself to sleep before leaving the room and heading back downstairs, where Sirius was still playing with Harry, but had a tension about his shoulders that indicated he'd sensed his friend's distress. "He's worse than I expected."

"I noticed," Sirius said grimly whilst Harry's attention was occupied by a black Labrador plushie. "We can't leave him on his own whilst he's suffering like that; there's no telling what will happen to him. Or Harry, for that matter."

"Agreed," was the dour response. "I suggest we talk him into moving in with us. After all, this house was only provided for him by the Ministry. They could take it away from him at the drop of a hat. Grimmauld Place is yours, there's no threat of homelessness looming over James's back."

"I'm not sure. The house is still rather… grim… That painting of my mother might be a bad influence on Harry."

"Would you rather James died of starvation?"

Sirius had no answer to that. Nodding, Remus turned on his heel and headed back to the kitchen in the hopes of finding something he could use to make into a valid meal for when James woke up. There wasn't much; mostly stuff for sandwiches, but James needed more than that if he was going to be healthy again.

Still. It was better than nothing.

Managing to cobble together a bowl of soup with some bread on the side, Remus also dished out some food for Harry as well, leaving the soup on the kitchen counter for James to collect when he woke up. Taking the mashed carrots into the living room, he and Sirius took turns in feeding it to Harry. "Here comes the Snitch, Harry! Catch it! Nom!" Their muted laughter increased in volume as the tension in the room gradually eased up.

They almost didn't notice the woe begotten, still exhausted presence of James at the door until he knocked quietly on the doorframe. His eyes were still bloodshot, and he looked paler than before.

"Feeling better?" Sirius questioned hopefully.

"I think so," James mumbled, rubbing his eyes and almost knocking his glasses off his face in the process. "Thanks for feeding Harry for me."

"It wasn't a problem," Remus dismissed. "I made some soup for you, it's in the kitchen."

An incomprehensible mutter was James's only answer, and he wearily flicked his wand, summoning the bowl of soup. It had cooled in the time since it had been made, but another lazy flick of the wand and the quiet murmur of a spell, and it was steaming yet again. With halting steps, he walked over to the couch and sat down on it with a slack, despondent expression on his face.

With a sigh, Sirius chose to breach the subject that he'd been discussing Remus just a short while ago. "James… Remus and I were thinking of… of staying with you for a while. Or you moving in with us… Whichever you prefer…"

James said nothing, not even looking up from the soup that he was currently spooning into his mouth. It was good; Remus could cook well.

Remus finished the statement. "At least until you're back on your feet."

A pause. Blank and silent, he lowered the spoon back into the bowl, which he cradled in unsteady hands. "You really think I can ever move on from this?" was the barely audible enquiry.

"I know it will take a while," Sirius pressed. "But right now, you can barely support yourself. At least let us help."

"I… okay… Thank you…"

* * *

 **This chapter would've been a lot longer, but I decided that it was taking too long, so I shortened it, and the rest will be Chapter 2. Might take a while to update because of school and my other stories, but I'll update this whenever I can.**


	2. Chapter 2

**FINALLY! FINALLY! It's done! I'm over the Writer's Block!**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Grieve 'Til You Can Grieve No More**

Even after the chaos of Hogwarts, James still found himself in some of the strangest situations. For example: hanging halfway off the couch and playing tug-of-war with a white werewolf cub, glasses nearly falling off his face and appearance a general mess; as it had been in the past few months.

As it always was.

Still, he couldn't help but feel numb as he kept a lazy, languid hold on the length of knotted rope that the two-year-old cub was noisily fighting for.

"Has she won it yet?"

Listless thoughts interrupted, James looked up to see Galen standing over him, looking down at the cub with fatherly fondness. Strands of dark hair hung over his face to partly obscure a pair of mismatched eyes; one a glinting green, the other a rich mahogany brown.

"No," James grunted. He gave a teasing tug on the rope in an attempt to rile the cub up some more which earned an irate growl from her. "She's got spirit though."

Galen chuckled. "That she is," he stated. "She's clever too, like her uncle."

"How's he doing?"

A soft sigh was the first response he received. "It's an uphill battle, but he's managing."

"Good to hear."

"Da!" Harry cried from where he sat in the middle of the room, pushing a toy train back and forth across the thick carpet. "Daaa! Wanna pway!"

"Okay, I'm coming," James said, sliding off the couch and shuffling over to where Harry sat. He looked like a giant worm. Immediately, the werewolf cub tottered after him, stumbling straight into Harry.

"Ow!" Harry squealed. He fell onto his back, limbs flailing as the cub lay on top of him. "Off, Lowee! Off!"

'Lowee' yipped in reply, tail wagging.

"Loki, sweetheart," Galen coaxed, gently picking his child up off Harry. "How many times have I told you to do that? No, stop biting my fingers."

"Galen! I thought you were helping make dinner!"

"Okay, okay! Just making sure Loki doesn't try squashing Harry." He returned his attention to his daughter. "Play nice, okay?"

"Rooff!"

* * *

Dinner at Grimmauld Place these days was thankfully more pleasant than it once was. For one, it was now being held in the kitchen, as opposed to the oppressively dark dining room, and there was _a pleasant atmosphere_. No longer did Sirius have to endure the tense silence of the infrequent occasions in which his family ate together. No more did he have to hold his tongue with baited breath in case he said something that would get him beaten.

Right now, he was sat at the head of the table – sacrilege if his parents found out – laughing and drinking from a generous glass of wine. Remus was sat to his left, keeping an eye on his alcohol intake whilst James was seated opposite and feeding mashed potatoes to an all too eager Harry. Right next to him, Loki (now no longer transformed) sat, also being fed by her father. Both babies were strapped into separate high chairs next to their parents.

At the other end of the table, wrapped up in black robes, was an aging woman with dark eyes and a lined face that spoke of many years of wisdom and a respectable amount of heartache. Her hair was still dark, despite her age, and her expression as she looked at her family was nothing but fond.

"So Galen, any new dragons tried to chew on your limbs lately?" Sirius joked loudly, catching Galen's attention.

"Some Firebolt eggs hatched a few months ago," Galen explained excitedly, his eyes gleaming. "Nearly lost my eyebrows."

"Again?"

"Hey, those things are literally quite explosive when they hatch. Hot slime flies everywhere, it's disgusting and painful."

* * *

Dinner finished, everyone vacated to the living room. As Sirius, Remus, Galen and Gwen lounged on one of the couches, talking about work (or lack thereof, in Sirius's case), James sat by the fireplace, watching the kids play with toy trains together. In the small armchair a few meters away from him, Galen's mother, Cydonia, sat watching.

"Claws away, child," she snipped when Loki started getting a little too rough and tumble with Harry. "I will not be held accountable for you blinding your godfathers' nephew." Immediately, Loki stopped, recognizing the severe tone of her grandmother's voice.

"Sowwy," Loki whimpered, patting Harry on the head as a means of saying truce. Harry hugged her back.

James couldn't help but smile. Kids could be such sweethearts.

"Still grieving, I see," Cydonia observed. "I can understand that."

James's hooded brown eyes looked up at her, confused. "Excuse me?"

Sighing, the aged werewolf lifted herself out of the armchair and sat down on the floor near to James. "Keep grieving," she continued. "Grieve until you can grieve no longer. If that takes you the rest of your life, then so be it. It's been thirty years, and I am still grieving for my brother. Ten years, and I am still mourning the future loss of my dear brother-in-law. Grief, once you find it, is a natural part of life. It will stay. For how long, one will never know. But in reality, it never truly leaves us. We must all find a way to live with it."

"How long do you think until I learn to live with it?"

"Why are you asking me, boy?" Cydonia said. "I do not know the inner workings of your mind. For Fenrir's sake, I can hardly understand my own. You may have found a way to live with it by tomorrow. You may not learn to endure until years from now. You may handle it without a problem, or there may be days where you simply cannot handle it, and your world seems to fall apart around you. Either way, it's impossible to predict. But always know that I am always around to talk to you about it. Until I die, of course. Then you may converse with a portrait of mine. Might make a nice replacement for that ghastly visage hanging in the hallway."

"Heh… thank you. Uh, kids, stay away from the fireplace. Harry, no."


End file.
